


Brighter than Stars

by aescyra



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate POV, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Gen, Kingdom of Ash Spoilers, Minor Spoilers, The Yielding, chapter 89 - asterin's pov, recommended to read ch89 again before reading this, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-04 14:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18606646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aescyra/pseuds/aescyra
Summary: From all sides were Ironteeth witches swarming at her, iron teeth and claws out, but she didn’t let that faze her. She narrowed her eyes and slipped into the cold, calculating battle calm that had served her well all these years. She let her anger fuel her movements, enhancing her performance rather than detracting from it.And Asterin swept forward.She was darkness and destruction, a whirlwind of gleaming blades and blood, an unstoppable force of nature. She was death, and she had come to take them all.If there was one thing Asterin was good at, as Second, it was making sure that Manon lived. All of them, the Thirteen, were good at that. One more sacrifice for their leader was nothing. They would do it gladly. After all… what was a puny witch tower compared to the full might of the Thirteen?aka; Kingdom of Ash, chapter 89--from Asterin's POV.





	Brighter than Stars

“We have five minutes,” Manon snapped. She whirled to the Thirteen. “We have trained for this. To break apart enemy ranks. We can get through them. Take apart that tower.”

To break through that wall of Ironteeth, to destroy that witch tower... it would require immense power, more power than they had. Unless—unless they Yielded. The only magic a witch possessed, unleashed in a final explosion of darkness—and the _T_ _hirteen?_ Their Yieldings would be _magnificent,_ their sheer power and centuries spent in combat manifesting in ebony waves and obliterating all.

Only they could do this. Only the Thirteen, but… it would be complete suicide. Anyone going in would not come out.

Asterin had already made her peace with the fact that she would die in battle, or in defence of Manon. Manon—her leader, her Queen. To die for her would be a worthy death.

But Manon... _No_. She would not accept Manon’s death. Wasn't she Manon's Second? A blade to guard her Queen's back, a shield against the enemies that would attack? She would not allow this. And as she lifted her gaze, met the grim and determined eyes of the rest of the Thirteen, Asterin could see they felt the same, had come to the same conclusions as her.

 _Go_ , her eyes said. _I’ll be right behind you._

Sorrel nodded once, the Thirteen breaking apart and stalking toward their mounts with purpose. _We leave Manon to you._

Asterin watched as she clasped Manon’s shoulder as she passed, a final farewell and acknowledgement. Watched as they readied for battle. Then it was just her and Manon, standing in front of each other. This small deception, because Manon would never let them leave without her, never let them sacrifice themselves for her.

But they would—for Manon, for their Witch Queen, for a better world. A world where witches would never be branded _UNCLEAN_.

Asterin smiled, pouring all her love, loyalty and gratitude into the smile. “Live, Manon.”

Manon blinked.

Smiling wider at Manon’s confusion, Asterin pressed a kiss to her brow and whispered again, “ _Live_.”

A wish, a hope. An order that Manon live through the war and build the better world Asterin would never see. An apology that she would not be there, to share the triumphs and losses, the burden that Manon would face.

Then, lightning fast, she punched Manon in the gut.

She was already striding over to Narene when Manon doubled over, wheezing from the blow. Asterin mounted the blue mare and gathered the reins in her hands.

She tilted her head towards Manon and said, quiet but fierce, “Bring our people home, Manon.” Her last words to her Queen. Her Queen, who held an expression of shock and disbelief.

Not waiting to see the dawning realisation on Manon’s face, she took off, Narene carrying her upward with powerful beats of her wings.

“ _F_ _ly_ , Narene!” Asterin urged, wind whipping at her hair. She leaned forward over the saddle as her faithful mount put on a burst of speed, swiftly catching up to the rest of the Thirteen.

Centuries’ worth of fighting together had honed them into a lethal, deadly unit. Unspoken, they took their places, forming a perfect phalanx as they swept into enemy territory, racing toward the witch tower. They already knew what needed to be done.

Asterin bared her teeth in a savage grin as a wall of Ironteeth rose before them. Despite the exhaustion of the previous battles she fought clinging to her, the thrill of battle still rose within her. She would not yield, would not submit. If she had to die, she would take them all with her.

The Thirteen slammed into the Ironteeth, spreading wide and pushing them back and away. Away so that Asterin, at the very back of the formation, had a clear path to the witch tower. To streak forward and end the witch about to Yield, steps away from the tower pit. She ignored the sound of battle, the clashing iron and pained screams behind her. Tried to ignore that this, her flight, was bought with the rest of the Thirteen’s very lives.

One chance. She had one chance. The saddle straps already unbuckled, Asterin rose up in the saddle and palmed her dagger. It was a cold, reassuring weight in her hand as she gauged the wind speed, the ever decreasing distance to the witch at the tower. Then she drew back her arm and threw.

Heart pounding, she watched it flip through the air in an arc towards the witch, already glowing black from the power of the Yielding. The blade struck the witch deep in the back, sending her sprawling onto the stone floor and causing that darkness to abruptly flicker out. A foot away from the pit. A foot away from the destruction of Orynth, of Manon.

Now mere seconds away from the tower, Asterin drew her twin swords from the sheaths at her hips, the steel flashing in the light. She knew what she had to do—and it killed her, made every part of her scream out protest. But this was her final stand. She would make it worth it.

“May you go gently, Narene,” Asterin breathed, sorrowful, as she leapt for the oncoming archway. She landed with a loud thud, swords already swinging to meet the witches that rushed forward to stop her.

Behind her, the loud crack of bone on rock as Narene slammed into the unforgiving tower wall reverberated down to her bones. Something in her _broke_ at the sound of Narene, her endlessly loyal, brave wyvern dying. Dead. For _this_. At that, a wave of bitter fury sent everything spiraling into slow motion, sharpening her vision into crystal clarity. She would utterly destroy this witch tower, that made such a thing necessary.

Asterin slammed the pommel of her sword into the witch’s stomach in front of her, causing her to stagger back with a yelp of pain before slashing her throat with her other blade. The witch collapsed with a gurgle of blood.

From all sides were Ironteeth witches swarming at her, iron teeth and claws out, but she didn’t let that faze her. She narrowed her eyes and slipped into the cold, calculating battle calm that had served her well all these years. She let her anger fuel her movements, enhancing her performance rather than detracting from it.

And Asterin swept forward.

She was darkness and destruction, a whirlwind of gleaming blades and blood, an unstoppable force of nature. She was death, and she had come to take them all.

Asterin reached deep down for the core of herself, the locked power all witches held. A bright, pulsing dark star, her life force and final defiance. She tugged at it, unravelling the invisible chains that held it safely captive even as she plunged towards the Blackbeak Matron, blue blood dripping from her blades. There was a cut on her cheek welling with blood, numerous other small wounds that penetrated her armour, but she barely felt them.

The power expanded until it was barely under her skin, straining for release. _Not yet_ , Asterin told it, so close to the Matron, _not yet_. She cut down two more acolytes blocking her path, sending them flying with a spray of blood. Surely she could be allowed this one vengeance.

_UNCLEAN_

The words branded across her abdomen, the stillborn witchling that she still mourned, would mourn until her dying day, the hunter in the woods she loved, who waited for her always—

If there was one thing she could not let go of, it was this. For them, she would strike down the Blackbeak Matron.

The Matron backed away, shaking her head. “Asterin, no—” she began, but Asterin didn’t listen. Didn't want to.

Her power tugged at her, calling her to relax her iron will. To let go and let darkness consume her, so utterly and so destructively there would be nothing left. A final explosion. It was okay, though. Because it was time.

She let go, let the power start to stream out of her. But it was not darkness, but white light that burst from her body in an endless stream, filling her up with brightness.

Light, so blinding that she almost paused from shock.

But she had no time to ponder it, didn’t stop as she tackled the Blackbeak Matron to the ground, both of them crashing to the hard stones.

“ _Please_ ,” the withered witch below her might’ve said, a plea for the mercy she had never granted anyone.

 _Please_ , Asterin had begged her, asking to hold her witchling just once. _Please_.

Asterin didn't respond, letting let her actions be the answer. She pinned the Matron to the ground with iron claws as she completely opened herself up to the Yielding, letting it take everything from her. She glowed with it, the light instead of darkness that lit her up, making her a beacon for all to see.

In her last moments before she Yielded completely, Asterin smiled, at peace. For she had done her duty—as Second, as cousin, as friend. Had ensured that Manon lived above all.

“Live, Manon,” she whispered to the wind, closing her eyes. Hanging on by scraps of magic. “ _Live_.”

As the world fell away, incandescent light, brighter than stars and pure as snow was the last thing she saw as she exploded, blowing herself and everything around her to smithereens.

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't the witch tower scene such a brilliant and badass way for the Thirteen to die?? it was,,, depressingly sad but. it was epic? right? right. leave kudos and comment if you liked! Or if you have any prompt ideas, which I'm always up for. 
> 
> (oh gods what hell have I descended into to be writing fic for this fandom haha lowkey regretting my life decisions now)


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